


Inner Spirit

by AvocadoLove



Category: Captain America (Movies), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Daemons, Hurt Tony, M/M, Pining, Steve Needs a Hug, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-02-24 13:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2583254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvocadoLove/pseuds/AvocadoLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's not dead, but everything that made up the man Steve was starting to fall in love with is gone, leaving only a vacant-eyed, catatonic shell. And no matter what the team says, Steve knows it's his fault. </p><p>In order to get Tony back, Steve will have to do more than just move heaven and earth. He'll have to expose a portion of his soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, here's the start to the fic I've been promising since about June. It wasn't long enough to make the IronCap Big Bang, but hopefully it'll be satisfactory. I'll add the link to the K_M prompt when it's all posted. 
> 
> **Trigger warnings for the fic** : Discussions of what constitutes brain death and right to life/right to death, one dub-con kiss, and actions that could be seen as suicidal.
> 
> Edit: Now that the crossover aspect has been introduced, I've updated the tags. Be aware that the story doesn't begin to crossover with The Golden Compass/His Dark Materials until chapter 6.

 

_Prologue_

* * *

 

Even now, seventy years and a whole new world later, Steve was a little ashamed to admit he screamed his head off in the vita-ray machine.

Every inch of him had been bombarded with burning radiation; his bones cracked and reformed, muscles tore, built up, and tore again. And Steve had screamed and screamed. It was all there in Howard Stark's report.

He never told anyone that wasn't all. That he heard someone else, a young woman, screaming along with him. Her voice, clear and piercing, had been so close it was almost as if she were a part of him.

Afterwards, Steve convinced himself it was Peggy. Howard's reports did mention she yelled at the techs to turn the vita-ray machine off.

 

 

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

 

 

"Not worth it," Tony declared through the comm lines. "This isn't even remotely worth my time, Cap. I had a meeting to attend. Granted, it was a yearly fiscal meeting, which is even _less_  use of my time. Don't tell Pepper."

"I'm totally telling Pepper," Clint said back, but he sounded amused, too.

"Iron Man, Hawkeye," Steve sighed. "Can we focus?"

"Sure, Cap." Iron Man hovered about fifty feet up. He turned, and even though his helmet was firmly in place, Steve could swear he could see Tony roll his eyes. "On your left. I guess."

Steve twisted, shield at the ready, to see yet another flat shadow-like... thing approach from the side. The shadow creatures had been downright spooky at first. (Tony and Clint had called them Slender Men in matching tones of horror. It fit, them being tall and thin beings made of pure shadow, except for their dazzling backlit eyes.)

Unfortunately for the Slender Men, they were pretty easily defeated by beams of... light.

Natasha broke into a nearby gas station, and "borrowed" a pack of flashlights and some spare AA batteries. Then they were in business.

As far as Steve could tell, the Slender Men didn't actually attack anyone or cause property damage. They only scared the bejesus out of civilians.

Steve turned towards the oncoming Slender Man and flicked on his flashlight. Even though it was afternoon, the weak light blasted a hole through the creature's torso. The Slender Man wailed, its arms flailing. A second beam of light joined the first, and with another haunting cry, the Slender Man melted to rejoin regular shadows.

"Nice shooting, Tex," Tony said, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

"It's why they call me one of the best snipers in the world," Bucky added dryly, at Steve's side. It wasn't his first outing with the Avengers, but he was still fresh enough to be a little nervous going in. Not that he'd said anything, but Steve could tell. Now, though, Bucky carried his flashlight with ease. He winked at Steve and pretended to blow off the top of the flashlight as if it were a smoking gun.

Steve felt something in his heart warm. Bucky was doing better all the time, and Tony kept watch above them all -- his two favorite people were working together, getting along.

Those feelings were not appropriate as a friend or a team leader. He stuffed them down with ease of long practice, then reholstered his flashlight to his belt.

"Avengers, let's get a move on. I'd like to get this cleaned up before dark sets in."

"Yeah, great. Wonderful. Then we'll only be able to tell where the Slender Men are by the light of their creepy eyes," Tony said.

"Spread out," Steve said. "Maybe they're being controlled or created by a single party. Chances are, if we eliminate him or her, the rest of the Slender Men will disappear."

He needn't have bothered. Emerald green lightning suddenly arced across the sky, and dark thunderheads boiled out of nowhere.

Bucky craned around, looking up. "Thor's back?"

Steve shook his head. The team had a pretty good handle on the Slender Men -- there was no need to interrupt Thor's honeymoon with Jane Foster. Even Banner was standing on the sidelines in reserve.

"I... don't think it's Thor," Clint said. "He usually doesn't do the green thing."

"This is something new," Steve said. "Natasha, circle to the south. I want that exit by Main Street covered. I think we're about to meet the, uh, main bad guy."

"Game boss," Tony corrected. He'd dropped in altitude, now hovering about twenty feet above the ground, palms pointed towards the building greenish clouds.

There was a crack of lightning and a roll of thunder so close it shook Steve to his molars. Suddenly, a woman stood hovering fifty feet over the Avengers. Dressed in a shimmering green gown, she was a curvy looker with blonde hair and vivid green eyes Steve could see even from the ground.

"You are the ones called the Avengers." Her voice rang out, unnaturally loud so that it echoed between buildings. She pointed one accusing green-tipped nail down. "You are responsible for my pain."

Suddenly a shield-like sphere around her flashed into life as an arrow cracked into it.

"Oops," Clint said wryly, and nocked another arrow.

Steve's grip tightened on his shield. "You're the one responsible for the Slender Men?"

"My minions." She tossed her head, her hair shimmering down her shoulders. "They represent but a fraction of my power."

"They sure looked like a fraction of _somebody's_ power," Bucky muttered from the corner of his mouth.

He'd been quiet, but the woman scowled as if she'd heard. "I am Amora the Enchantress," she announced. "Lately of Asgard, come into this realm to take vengeance for a grievous wrong."

There was a beat of silence, where Steve felt more than saw his team exchange glances with one another. "If you're Asgardian," Steve called, "then you're a long way from home."

"Not so far, if one knows how to find the spaces between."

Whatever that meant. Steve tried again. "Then you know Thor is an Avenger--"

"Thor," she said in scorn, "was to be my beloved. _My_  husband."

"Funny," Tony said, "he never mentioned you."

She ignored him. "Which one of you leads Thor's team of comrades? Who is Steven Grant Rogers?"

Steve stepped forward, ignoring Bucky's warning hiss. "That would be me."

She looked down at him, a smile curving her lips. "Then I will let you choose."

He didn't like the sound of that. "Choose?"

"Yes. I will take away what you love most of all. Just as this puny realm has taken my dearest heart from me. What--no, _who_  is it you most love, Steven?"

Bucky made a low groan. Steve resolutely didn't look at him, nor did he look in Tony's direction. Clenching his jaw, he glared up at Amora. It was on the tip of his tongue to say "Peggy Carter" because it had been true at one point. But even if she hadn't passed away six months ago, he didn't want to play any part of Amora's game.

Amora's green eyes seemed to bore into his own, and Steve jerked in surprise when he felt a soft brush against his mind. Like a cool hand laying over his forehead.

Resolutely, he shut his mind against all thoughts. But the thing about not wanting to think anything was that he _absolutely_ thought of it anyway. Just like that Ghostbusters movie he saw a few weeks ago; the one Tony had been so excited to make Steve watch. But Tony had come off a forty-eight hour straight shot in his lab. He'd fallen asleep halfway through, his legs stretched over Steve's lap. Everywhere he'd touched had been warm, and Steve had been too distracted to pay much attention to the movie, trying not to move, wondering if he should wake him, if he should do more than rest his hand on Tony's leg, if the increasingly frequent, casual touches meant anything at all--

Amora's lips widened into a smile. "I see. Your pain will become my strength, and every time Anthony Edward Stark suffers, know that I grow in power."

The bottom dropped out of Steve's stomach, and he felt his cheeks and the back of his neck heat.

"Uh, Steve?" Tony said uncertainly, still hovering mid-air. And this... this was not how Steve wanted this conversation to go. Ever.

He kept his gaze firmly on Amora so he didn't have to look at Tony. "Now, listen here--"

Amora flung her hands dramatically out towards Tony.

Steve's breath caught, and even Tony seemed to pause. There was a moment of stillness. Then Tony tilted the Iron Man helmet to look down at himself, then back up at Amora. "Is something supposed to happen, here, lady?"

Steve grit his teeth. "If you have a problem with any member of the Avengers," he called, trying to recapture her attention, "you should take it up with me."

"Okay, I've had enough with Glenda the good witch." Tony darted towards her, repulsers at the ready, but only got a few feet before he gasped and lurched back in mid-air. He turned tracks, firing upwards, only to stop short again. One gauntleted hand pressed over his arc reactor. "What the hell?" he gasped.

"Iron Man, report," Steve barked.

"Not sure." Tony sounded shaken. "JARVIS shows all systems normal. But that felt..."

Amora smirked. "Know this, Steven Grant Rogers," her voice was thick with malice, "his suffering is your doing." Then she closed her fist.

Tony arched and screamed.

The sound cut Steve right down to the bone; Tony's pain, confusion, overlaid by soul-grating terror.

"TONY!" he yelled. He flung his shield at Amora, but it bounced off the spherical shield just like Clint's arrow had.

Then, just as abruptly as it started, Tony's scream cut out. Amora laughed, lightning cracked again, and she was gone.

"Tony!" Steve yelled. "Are you alright?"

Iron Man hovered in place, unanswering.

"Iron Man, report!" Steve ordered. If Tony was unconscious, JARVIS should have taken over the suit and brought him down to ground level. There were safeguards in place.

Natasha slid up next to Steve and calmly said, "Override, Romanoff, Alpha Eight Beta Tango."

Override. Steve should have thought of that, but he'd been rattled. 

As soon as the suit touched down, Steve rushed over to toggle the catches under the gold faceplate. He readied himself for anything as he pulled the helmet up and away. 

Tony was whole, unbloodied and alive. He stared back at Steve, his brown eyes empty.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Six hours later, Steve sat in a chair beside the hospital bed, his head in his hands. A few feet away, Tony lay still and quiet.

SHIELD medical personnel had been buzzing in and out, withdrawing blood samples, hooking Tony up to machines, disconnecting him a few minutes later, wheeling him out for MRI, CAT, PET and whatever other scans they could think of, bringing him back, rehooking him up to IV's, heart-monitors...

A nurse was at Tony's bedside again, her manner brisk as she said, "Sit up for me, Mr. Stark."

Tony made no reaction, but did as he was directed when the nurse took his arm and tugged him upright. He stared straight ahead, blank and incurious.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, because Tony would have done the same if he were... able.

The nurse extended Tony's arm. And Tony, who was the world's worst patient, who charmed and played-down injuries or outright lied not to be kept in a hospital room for one second longer than was needed, who hated to even be handed things, passively let her.

The nurse rubbed a dot of alcohol on Tony's inner elbow. There were already several other marks from that day. "Doctors requested another blood sample to compare against the previous readings."

Steve frowned, but what if they found something this time? So he stayed silent. Tony sat passively, not twitching as the needle slid in, or reacting at all as the nurse exchanged one tube for another, finished, withdrew, and gently pushed him to lay down again. He stared up at the ceiling, occasionally blinking.

"Are you thirsty?" Steve asked, after the nurse bustled out.

No answer. There hadn't been so far, but he had to at least try.

They'd hooked Tony up to an saline drip, but that had been awhile ago, and Tony had fought an entire battle before that. Steve had directed him to drink once -- had held a water cup to his lips. Tony swallowed the first gulp, but the rest had run out his mouth and down his chin. Feeling vaguely embarrassed, Steve hadn't tried again.

Steve reached up to rub between his eyes. He didn't get headaches anymore, not since the serum, but sometimes he still got the feeling one was building up when he was stressed.

"Tony," he said so quietly he could barely hear himself. "This is my fault."

The only answer was silence, and that was damning enough.

Steve knew he had no right to be here, but Bucky wouldn't go one-hundred yards near a hospital, and he, Clint an Natasha were working on leads to track down Amora. _Someone_ had to stay with Tony. HYDRA had been rooted out of SHIELD under director Coulson's careful eye, but -- well, _Fool me once..._

Bruce bustled in a few minutes later, clipboard in hand. He wasn't officially a SHIELD medical doctor, but he did function as team medic liaison between the SHIELD personal and overly proud, stubborn Avengers.

Steve looked askance at him, but the expression on Bruce's face told him at once there hadn't been any luck with the new lab results. No breakthroughs.

"Physically, he's healthy," Bruce confirmed tiredly. "So far every test has put him within the normal range."

Steve glanced at Tony, then back again, guiltily. "Even the brain scans?"

Bruce nodded and held out a tablet. There were several charts with squiggly lines running across them. Steve recognized one as a heart-beat monitor, another for blood pressure and respiration, but there were others with sharp dips and valleys he couldn't begin to guess at.

"The brain PET scan showed no abnormalities, so we attached him to an EEG which registers electrical impulses, and ran some audiovisual tests." Bruce tapped one of the charts to expand it. "These brainwaves show he's conscious -- not in a true catatonic state --, and he's reacting within normal parameters when someone speaks, or when he was shown a flash card. His brain is recognizing what he's seeing. It's processing information. He can hear us, can probably understand us to some extent."

Steve glanced at Tony, who hadn't reacted to the news at all. "I don't think Tony's able to play silent even if he ever wanted to."

"No," Bruce said dryly. "I don't think so, either."

"Then he's..." Steve swallowed down a well of horror and had to stop himself from reaching out to touch Tony's limp hand. "If he can understand us, maybe he's trapped in his own head and can't get out--"

"No," Bruce said quickly. "What you're thinking of is called locked-in syndrome; When someone is fully conscious, but their body is paralyzed. That's simply not the case here -- as far as we can tell, he _can_ communicate. For whatever reason, he just isn't. Steve," he said, seeing his doubt, "he's not showing signs he's in pain or distress."

Steve slumped, relieved. "Then if it's not medical, it's magical."

At this, Bruce hesitated. "It... appears that way. We've called Thor in, and SHIELD has a few magical consultants they still trust on file. A doctor, uh, Strange, is scheduled to see him tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Why not now?"

Bruce's eyebrows shot up. "He said he had to commune with the greater powers."

Tony hated magic, and while Steve tried to keep more of an open mind, sometimes he agreed. "Clint and Bucky find anything on the Slender Men?"

"Nothing yet. They seemed to have disappeared with Amora. Natasha's working on tracking her down."

Steve nodded, and there was an awkward pause, a beat of silence where Steve knew Bruce wanted to talk about the giant elephant in the room. The fact that Amora had done this to Tony because Steve.... because Steve hadn't been able to control himself.

Bruce said softly, "Steve--"

"Thor may be able to tell us more about Amora," Steve said a touch too loudly. "When he gets here--"

He stopped as the steady beep-beeping of the heart monitor took on a sudden, rapid clip.

Steve and Bruce exchanged a look. "Tony?" Steve asked, turning to him.

Tony's gaze was empty and unfocused, but he exhaled in a sudden, stuttering breath. Then another. The heart monitor picked up pace.

"Tony?" Steve asked again, hope lifting. He touched Tony's shoulder and leaned over to look for any sign of life in his eyes.

Tony screamed.

Steve reacted on instinct, snatching his hand back, but it didn't seem to matter. Tony curled in on himself, his fingers clawing over his arc reactor, his eyes big and terrified and staring at something no one could see.

The door burst open and several nurses and a doctor rushed in. It took Bruce to pull Steve, who was too shocked, out of their way. They hovered over Tony as his screams turned into terrible, sobbing wails. Someone called for a sedative, and the room fell silent only as Tony's eyes rolled into the back of his head. He slumped, unconscious.

Bruce touched Steve's shoulder, and Steve whipped around, so startled he nearly knocked Bruce's block off -- which would have been very bad for everyone involved.

"What the hell was that?" Steve's voice came out shaky.

Bruce shook his head. "I don't know," he said, "but this could be--I know this looks bad, but this could be a good sign. He could be snapping out of... whatever this is."

A couple of the nurses had backed away, giving Steve a view. Tony was out cold, with vicious self-made claw marks down his throat and chest. The nurses were securing his wrists with velcro straps to either side of the bed.

_Know this, Steven Grant Rogers,_ Amora had said _. His suffering is your doing._  

"Cap," Bruce said intently, probably seeing the look on Steve's face. "There hasn't been any sign of brain damage. Whatever this is, there's a very good possibility it's starting to pass."

 

* * *

 

 

Tony woke several hours later without ceremony or sound. Steve hadn't even known Tony was awake until he happened to glance up from his book to see him staring at the ceiling overhead. 

"Hey," Steve said, keeping his voice quiet. "How are you doing, pal?"

Tony didn't answer. He didn't tug at his hands, which were still strapped down. He didn't seem to notice at all.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Thor swept into the hospital room with a gust of ozone-tinted wind, and wearing a red Hawaiian shirt. He must have received the message while still on honeymoon with Jane.

"My friends!" he boomed, startling Steve so badly he used the magazine he was reading as an impromptu shield.

"Thor, hi. " Steve rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and glanced towards Tony who was sitting up, vacantly staring out the room's single window. Steve had directed his attention there an hour ago. What he was staring at, if anything, Steve couldn't guess. He hadn't so much as flinched at Thor's arrival.  

"I came as soon as I heard," Thor said gravely, and strode over to the hospital bed. He gently turned Tony's chin to face him and took in his unnatural quiet, his blank expression. Thor frowned.  "I am sorry to see you brought so low, Man of Iron. I would have never expected this of Amora, even with her faults."

"You _do_ know her then?" Steve asked, standing.

Thor nodded. "Indeed, she was of my mother's court, born of a respected family. When we were younger, there was talk of us being wed."

Steve hesitated. It was a delicate subject, but the sooner he got answers the sooner they could find a cure for Tony. "She said you were her beloved."

He raised his eyebrows. "Truly?  We had not spoken since we were children. Against my mother's direct command, she sought the means and power to enchant others. When her deeds were found out, she was cast to the Other Lands."

"I... got the impression that she enchanted Tony as a sort of revenge," Steve said.

Thor didn't answer for a long moment. Instead, he spread one hand over Tony's chest. It easily covered the arc reactor. On a good day, Tony was twitchy about anyone touching the reactor, but now Tony only stared at a point just left of Thor's head. Uncaring.

"I am no magician," Thor rumbled after a few moments. "Magic was Loki's art, and my mother's." He turned to Steve, his eyes solemn, "but I have seen enchanted men in my travels, cast under spells similar to the ones Amora grew known for. The men were her slaves, their minds turned to her bidding. They were not idle. Not like this."

Steve slumped, disappointment a bitter taste on the back of his tongue. "So you don't know how to break the spell."

Again, Thor hesitated. "You are certain it is a spell?"

Steve bristled. "Every doctor here has poked and prodded him, and they all say the same thing: he's fine. He's _healthy_. Amora did _something_ to him that no one can explain. If it's not magic, I don't know what is!" Steve forced himself to look away.  He hadn't exactly raised his voice at Thor, but he'd come close, and it wasn't fair to take his frustration out on him.

"Perhaps," Thor said softly, laying a big hand on Steve's shoulder, "it would be best to start from the beginning. Tell me exactly what was said, and what was done."

It was just about the last thing Steve wanted to do, and he felt his cheeks heating in a blush, but this was for Tony's sake. So he nodded and retook his seat, gesturing for Thor to pull up another chair, and made himself recount what had happened. All the ugly truth of it.

Thor, to his credit, did nothing but nod when Steve got to the part where Amora asked him to choose who he loved.

"She... I'm pretty sure she read my mind," Steve admitted.

"Yes, this was among her gifts." But there was no judgment in Thor's voice that Steve could hear, and after a beat, Steve went on. He ended with describing what he could of Tony's strange violent reaction he'd had a few hours ago.

After he finished, Thor shook his head and turned to Tony. "This was a cruel thing that was done, and I know not the sense of it. If Amora's quarrel was truly with me, why not approach me directly? Or not attempt to attack Jane?"

"She still might," Steve said. "This may be a diversion."

"She could try." He didn't think it was his imagination. The air seemed to crackle with sudden electricity. "But Mjölnir would strike her from the sky within a moment. "But she said she would gain strength from Anthony's suffering? From his blood, yes. There are such dark magics. But this? I know not."

Steve looked at Tony, and back to Thor again. "I was really hoping you'd know of a magical... herb or something to snap him out of it."

"There are restoratives to wake a sleeper, to sharpen the mind, but Anthony is awake and as you know his mind is always sharp." Again, Thor shook his head. "I have never seen the like. Truly, I am sorry, Steven."

The pity in his eyes made a lump grow in Steve's throat, and Steve had to look away.

"If you like," Thor ventured after a moment, "I will sit with Anthony, and you may get some rest."

"I'm fine," Steve said quickly. "I should... well, I don't mind being here. Bucky and Clint are still hunting down the Slender Men, Natasha's on the hunt for Amora -- maybe you could help?"

"Indeed. I am not the fine tracker as my comrade, Hogun, but I know the signs of Asgard." Thor stood, then, alarmingly, pulled Steve into a huge, strong hug. Steve may or may not have flailed for a moment, more surprised than anything else. 

Then Thor released him, and without another word, strode out, leaving Steve looking after him.

 

* * *

 

 

In the end, there was no reason to keep Tony in the hospital, other than observation which could be done at home. Aside from his silence and apathy, SHIELD medical could find nothing physically wrong with him at all.

As Bruce was taking a nap -- exhausted by doctor wrangling and apparently the effort it had taken to keep the Hulk at bay-- and everyone else were still scouring the battle site for clues, it was up to Steve to take Tony back to the tower.

Tony could stand on his own, and walked when someone lightly pushed him along. Flying the armor was out of the question, so Steve requisitioned a quinjet.

Steve tried not to get up too much hope that the familiar sight of home would jerk some reaction out of Tony. He really did.

"Tony look," he said quietly as the tower came into view. Tony had been staring out into the middle distance, and Steve couldn't tell if his eyes focused on the tower or not.

He landed, unbuckled Tony from his seat. Then, with one hand on his shoulder, he guided Tony down the quinjet's ramp and onto the Iron Man launch pad. Steve watched him carefully, but Tony's eyes were empty; staring ahead, seeing but unseeing as the high wind at the top of the tower whipped at his hair.

"Do you know where you are?" Steve prompted, then added, "Remember when I called it a big ugly building?"

There was no reaction. Not even a twitch.

Sighing, Steve pushed him to walk forward.

"Good evening, sir," JARVIS greeted as the glass door opened.

Nothing. 

Pepper was sitting on the couch in the penthouse. She rose as they walked in, a tablet computer in her hand.

"Mr. Stark," she said with a wobbly smile that damn near broke Steve's heart. Of course she had been told what had happened, though she hadn't come to the hospital. She and Tony had maintained a careful business separation since their break-up.

Steve nudged Tony's side. "I've never seen you get tongue-tied around a pretty girl before, Iron Man."

Tony swayed a little at the nudge. His eyes remained blank as Pepper came up to him, looking first at Tony, then at Steve. She gave a nod, seeing what Steve was doing. "I've seen you pull a lot of stunts to get out of board meetings, but this is really it," she said to Tony.

They both waited a beat. Pepper's lips pinched, and she glanced at Steve before again addressing Tony.

"I know you can't stand hospital chic. We should get you back in your own clothes."

"You mean, those silken things that cost more than my salary during the war?" Steve asked, with another glance to Tony. He, of course, had no opinion. So Steve touched his shoulder and led him forward. "This way, right?"

"I'll pick out something from your closet. The cranberry silk is your favorite, I think?" Pepper said.

In his weak moments, Steve had let himself fantasize about undressing Tony, but never like this. This wasn't sexy, it was economical, and Pepper certainly hadn't been in the room in his fantasies (well -- to be truthful, there was just the one, and it made him blush a little to think of it). Uncaring as he was stripped to his skivvies, Tony put his limbs where Steve moved them, into rich red sleeves and pajama pants. He was a mannequin. A living doll.

For lack of anything else to do, Steve directed him to lay down on the bed, and then pulled his covers up to his chin. He doubted Tony was sleepy, having just got out of a hospital bed, but... what else could he do?

Then Steve joined Pepper, who was waiting outside the bedroom.

"SHIELD has called in an expert on magic. He'll be in tomorrow," Steve said as he gently shut the door behind him.

Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Natasha told me what he was like, but I didn't imagine..."

"I know."

"That was the longest time I've ever heard him be awake and not speak."

Steve shut his eyes. "I know."

Pepper looked like she was going to say something more. Maybe another version of 'It's not your fault', which was a lie because it was. _It was_. Instead, she nodded to her tablet. "I wasn't joking about the meeting. He's chairperson, and this is the annual fiscal report to our investors before SI publically posts tomorrow. His absence is going to raise questions."

"How long can you cover for him?"

"I'll think of something," she said, which wasn't a real answer, and her smile was sad. "Just like old times again. Our stock is going to take a dip."

Steve sighed. "Just do what you can. We'll find Amora before long. We'll set him to rights."

She nodded briskly. Then again there was that strange hesitation. "He's... not going to be alone tonight, is he?"

"No, JARVIS will monitor him."

"Indeed, Captain Rogers," the AI put in, sounding a little affronted.

"And I'll sleep out here on the couch in case he needs anything," Steve added.

"You're a good friend, Steve." 

His heart twisted. If he'd put more time into being the friend to Tony he should have been, instead of... of _lusting_ after him, this wouldn't have happened at all.

 

* * *

 

"Sir," Jarvis said, his voice penetrating through several deep layers of sleep. Steve jerked and sat up, feeling the plush couch under him try to suck him back down. Honestly, if sleeping on modern mattresses were like marshmallows, this was that marshmallow fluff Clint had once tried to get him to taste.

"What's wrong? JARVIS--What?" he asked, feeling slow and stupid. "Is it Amora? Have we found--"

"Sir, I'm afraid Mr. Stark's respiratory and blood pressure levels are increasing beyond normal limits."

As if on cue, from behind the closed bedroom door came a high, hysterical laugh. Steve threw back the spare blanket he'd borrowed and leapt over the couch, rushing into the room. JARVIS automatically turned on the lights. Tony was sitting up in his bed, breathing hard, eerie, unceasing laughter bubbling out with every breath. Then Tony jerked, his eyes widening as he stared somewhere past Steve. The laughter stopped, he drew in a ragged breath, and started to scream.

Steve was at his side in a moment, grabbing for Tony's clawed hands before they could reach for the arc reactor. Tony thrashed wildly against him, kicking out, half his blows missing because he wasn't actually aiming for Steve, wasn't really looking at him at all.

Steve held his wrists in one hand and moved behind him, gripping Tony back to front. Tony writhed, and every breath he let out was a ragged cry, full of pain and fury.

The only thing Steve could do was hold him tight. "Tony, Tony! Shhh, you're safe. I've got you."

"Sir," JARVIS's voice filtered over them both. "The prescribed sedative is in--"

Steve shook his head. Knocking Tony out hadn't done any good for him last time. "Shhh," he tried to soothe. He kept his voice low, even above Tony's pitched screams. "It's okay. You're safe. You're in the tower. No one is going to hurt you."

According to JARVIS, it took five minutes and forty-five seconds for Tony to calm. It felt much longer. By the time he stopped, Tony was drenched in sweat, and Steve felt no less exhausted.

Tony drew one ragged breath after another, slumping back unselfconsciously against Steve. Releasing his wrists, Steve touched under Tony's chin to bring his head around, tried to look in his eyes. "Are you with me, Iron Man?" he asked half-hopefully. Maybe now...

Tony didn't answer, his gaze a blank nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Stephen Strange was, for lack of a better adjective, a strange man. Decked out in a high collar cape and a dandy pair of pants, he made a show of directing Clint and Steve to lie Tony down in the middle of the floor.

He placed round stones in different colors at five points around Tony's head. Sitting back, Strange waved first a crystal, then a wooden wand over him, chanting to himself.

Steve tried not to think how Tony would have loathed to be prodded by magical instruments. From the few comments Natasha had made over breakfast, Tony and Strange had met before and, predictably, hadn't gotten along. Tony hated magic. Hated things he couldn't understand. .

But if Strange was inwardly gloating that the great Tony Stark had been brought low by magic, he didn't voice it, and it never showed once in his expression.

Finally, after ten solid minutes of chanting and changing the order and position of the round stones, Strange leaned back and said, "I detect no magical signatures, either in his body or in his aura."

"What does that mean?" Natasha asked before Steve could.

"That he is currently not under a spell or curse."

"Yes he is," Steve said. "We all watched Amora enchant him."

Strange turned to him, one eyebrow raised. "My dear boy," and Steve tried and failed not to bristle at that, "SHIELD furnished me with the video of the events, and I have watched it myself. What that so-called enchantress was doing," he flicked his wrists in a decent imitation of Amora, "is not a magical movement."

There was a video? Probably taken by one of the long range quinjets sent in for backup. "She's Asgardian," Steve said stubbornly. "Maybe you're not used to working with their magic." _Maybe you're not good enough to recognize it when you see it_ , he didn't add because despite everything else, Strange was a guest in their home.

Strange's eyes flashed in indignation, as if he'd picked up the unspoken words. "Indeed, I am well versed in Asgardian brand of magic, although I lack the tools to replicate the results. All magic, Asgardian, Terran, Wiccan, leaves traces. I can assure you that he," Strange pointed a long finger at the uncaring Tony, "is without."

"So what are you saying? Stark's giving us the silent treatment?" Clint demanded.

Strange pulled his cloak around himself, his eyes darting from one Avenger to another. His shoulders sagged a fraction, perhaps sensing their concern even through his wounded pride. "Whatever has happened to Tony Stark is wholly natural or medical, not magical," he said. "I'm sorry, I cannot offer more than that." He hesitated, then added a bit more tentatively, "Before I found this path, I used to be a surgeon. I could, perhaps, take a look at your findings."

"Thank you," Steve made himself say. Disappointment clogged his throat. "Dr. Banner is researching it right now. I'm sure he would be grateful for any assistance."

Strange nodded and with a swish of his robes, he collected the oddly colored stones and walked out.

Natasha, Clint, and Steve looked at each other.

"Well, shit." Clint said, succinctly. Then he reached down and gripped Tony's hand, yanking him to his feet. "C'mon, Stark. You and I are taking a field trip to the archery range."

Steve had a very vivid image of Clint shooting an apple off the top of Tony's head to see if he flinched, like a demented William Tell. "Hawkeye--"

"I'll be careful with him, Cap." Clint clapped Tony so hard on the shoulder, he actually swayed a little. "We're going to talk shop, aren't we, Stark? You owe me a bow."

"He'll be fine," Natasha said, and smoothly took Steve's own arm, guiding him out and down the hall. He got the distinct impression they were separating them.

"How much sleep did you get last night?" Natasha asked.

"Tony had two more of his..."-- _screaming and crying jags_ \--"fits." Steve said. He was tired, but he'd often gone on less sleep before during the war.

She nodded and steered him to the couch. "Sit." She disappeared into the adjoining kitchen and reappeared a moment later with a tray loaded with a few select beers, a bottle of vodka, and shot glasses. Placing the tray on the coffee table, she sat next to Steve. "Do you want to talk about it?"

There was no doubt of what she meant: His feelings for Tony. "Not really," he said, firmly.

"I admit, I was surprised. I'm not often taken by surprise." Natasha popped a beer cap off and handed it to him, even though it was barely noon. "Though it explains why you weren't interested in those blind dates."

"Sharon and I did go out for coffee. It was nice. She was... nice."

"Nice," she said in distaste. "That woman can kill a man in ten different ways without a weapon, and you call her nice." Her eyes went soft. "Steve..."

He couldn't do this. "Nat, I said I don't want to talk about it."

She stared at him, and he couldn't read the look in her eyes. Then, she poured two clear shots and offered him one. Steve took it obediently, and wished the alcohol did more for him than burn on the way down.

They sat and they drank.

Bucky joined them a few minutes later, flopping down between Steve and Natasha, shoving Steve hard with his shoulder as he did so. He leaned to drop a quick kiss on Natasha's cheek, and she murmured something in Russian that Steve didn't quite catch. But Bucky nodded and Natasha rose, quirking a smile at Steve before exiting the room.

Steve suppressed a sigh. He could smell a conspiracy.

Sure enough, Bucky broke the topic immediately, though his approach was wildly different from Natasha's. "You know, when that lady started going off about punishing who you loved, I thought I was a goner," he said, bluntly. "Thank goodness for Stark."

Steve let out a sound that might have been a half-laugh, if it didn't hurt so much. "Bucky that's--" _Mean, inappropriate, all of the above_ , "--why am I friends with you?"

Bucky's smile had too much darkness to fully resemble the man he'd been before the war, but it was a good enough echo. "Because deep down inside, you know we're gonna find a way to pull him through." He took a long pull of beer. Then, "So... Stark, eh? He's not as bad as his father."

Bucky liked Tony just fine. They'd spent hours in the lab on Bucky's arm -- while not up to Tony's level, Bucky had a decent grasp of robotics, which was improving all the time with Tony's tutelage. It helped that Bucky liked AC/DC, which Steve could never understand.

Steve used to come down and watch the two of them, heads bent together over an open panel on Bucky's arm. It had never failed to warm him inside: His best friend and his--and _Tony_.

"We weren't--I never told him how I, you know..." Steve trailed off, staring at the beer in his hands, "... felt."

"What do the kids say nowadays? Awkward."

"Yeah," Steve said hollowly.

Bucky clapped him on the knee -- it stung. He'd done it with his metal hand. "You're a dope, but it kinda figures. You've always had a thing for brunettes. I mean, Peg, had that nice dark, shiny hair and--"

He knew what Bucky was getting around to, and decided to cut him off at the pass. "You're like a brother to me, Buck. Always have been."

Bucky held up his hands. Both of them. "Alright, Stevie. Alright. I don't think Natasha's into sharing, is all."

Steve swallowed hard. His voice came out small. "But he's not Peggy. He's a man. You're not... disappointed?"

"In you, Steve? Never."

Steve stared at his beer. His throat felt thick, and he knew he didn't deserve a friend like Bucky. Never had.

"He'll pull through," Bucky said again. His smile was more of a wince. "I feel bad for him, mostly. When HYDRA took me out, they at least stuffed something back in."

Something about that pinged in Steve's mind. Yes, it was like Tony was empty, a shell of the man he used to be, almost as if something had been-- 

"The thing is," Bucky said, derailing that train of thought, "You gave me a chance -- you believed in me when no one in their right mind would have. I know I'm not 100%, Stevie, I probably won't ever be again. But I'm a damn sight better than I was."

Steve shook his head. "You've done amazing, Buck."

"Yeah, well I am amazing." He flashed a smile. "And so's Stark, I guess."

He didn't realize he needed to hear that until then. A little of the weight slid off his chest. "Thanks, Buck."

"And once he's back, I'll work double-time to get you two punks together."

"Maybe we'll make it a double-date," Steve said, just to see Bucky smirk, remembering other disastrous double-dates.

But deep inside, try as he might, he couldn't imagine it. Even if-- _when_ \--Tony recovered, he just wasn't the type to forgive easily. Steve lov- _cared_ for Tony, but it didn't mean he was blind to that fact.

Once he was well, there was a very good chance Tony wouldn't want to have anything to do with Steve... and Steve... he wouldn't blame him. Not one bit.

 

 

* * *

 

The days passed. Bruce brought in more specialists -- neurologists, psychiatrists, neurophysiologists, internal medicine doctors --  to consult and run tests. They took Tony on and off medications that had good results with catatonic patients, with no visible affect.

Sometimes Tony had as many as ten fits a day, sometimes only one or two.

The Avengers learned the hard way that Tony needed to be led to the bathroom. Once there, he'd do his business by himself, if there was a need. But after it was taken care of, Tony would stand before the toilet, blank and unmoving until he was led somewhere else. Meals were similar. When coaxed, he usually ate a bite or two of something in front of him, but that was it. Not enough to sustain him.

Pepper hired a nurse to keep watch on Tony during the day, to lead him to the bathroom every two hours, clean him, keep his goatee neat, and prepare food and spoon it in his mouth as if he were a child.

At night, the Avengers took shifts sitting in the room next to Tony's bedroom. If a fit came in the night, their job was to restrain or sedate Tony before he could claw out his own arc reactor.

By the forth day, everyone save Bucky and Steve, thanks to their healing factor, were sporting bruises from being kicked or struck.

And the tower felt so painfully quiet. Steve never realized how much presence Tony filled whenever he walked into a room. Even when he holed up in his lab for three days straight on a project, there was a sense of life eking out of the tower, in the JARVIS-lit walls and through his gadgets. In a way, living in the tower was like living in Tony's brain -- every floor mapped out by him, every invention either made or improved on by his design.

Now even the tower felt as empty as Tony's eyes.

It damn near broke Steve's heart the day he led Tony to his lab, hoping his favorite place would inspire something. Anything.

Dum-E immediately wheeled up, a dunce cap on its head, with a smoothie in its claw. Tony didn't react, letting the robot push it into his hand. His fingers curled around the glass, and he stood there, blank.

"That's very good, Dum-E," Steve said. "Thank you for the smoothie."

And there was no sign of Amora or her shadowy minions. None at all.

"She's planning something," Bucky muttered, one morning over eggs and toast. "Whatever she did to Stark, she's not in a holding pattern. Something is coming down the line."

Steve didn't disagree.

By the time a week had passed, Bruce started throwing around words like, "Very high level vegetative state" and the neurologists were repeating tests they'd done earlier in the week with no success. All Tony's brain scans came up perfectly normal.  

Finally, early in the morning, nine days after the encounter with Amora, just as Steve was lacing up his running shoes, he heard a knock on his door.

His heart lurched -- maybe Tony had snapped out of it, though JARVIS was supposed to tell him the moment anything happened. But... maybe that was him, and he'd come to yell at Steve, tell him to get out of his tower and never disgrace his door again. Kiss him. Something.

But it was Pepper who stood on the other side, looking brisk and professional.

"Ms. Potts," he said, swallowing down his disappointment, and stood aside to let her in. "You're up early."

The smile she gave him was tight. "I guess I could say the same for you."

"Morning run," Steve said a little sheepishly. He knew the tower had a fully stocked gym, but that was no substitute for getting some fresh air into his lungs. And sometimes he just needed to get out, if only for a few minutes.

He had nothing but the bare essentials in his own fridge, as he always preferred to eat in the common room with the team. Pepper politely declined a glass of water, and sat down at his small dining room table, pulling out a folder. "I was headed downtown for a meeting before the market opens, but I needed to stop by. We should to talk about Tony. I..." She hesitated. "There's no easy way to broach this."

His stomach sank again, but he forced his expression to keep neutral. She was going to blame him -- and really, she had every right. If he'd kept a lid on his feelings, if he'd been the Captain -- the friend he was supposed to be, none of this would have happened. He could take his lumps for it.

"After Afghanistan," Pepper said, "well, before really, but he amended it afterwards, Tony made me the medical power of attorney for his living will."

That brought Steve short. "Living will?"

"He made his medical wishes legally known in case he were unable to make those decisions for himself," she said, almost gently.

"...Oh."

Pepper thumbed through a few papers in the binder she was carrying, but then sighed and placed it down on the table. "There are quite a few advance directives, but they all come to the same thing. He has do-not-resuscitate, and do-not-extend his life orders in almost every instance."

Steve stared at her for a shocked moment, cold congealing in his gut. "Pepper, he's not in a coma. He's awake, he can feed himself." Not enough to keep up a sick child, he should know, but it was something. It had to count..

She held up her hand. "I know. None of the directives technically falls within the perimeters established, which gives me some wiggle room."

"Wiggle room? You're talking about--" He cut himself off, couldn't even say it.

She pinned him with a hard look. "Have you had an end of life conversation with Tony?"

"What?" But he swallowed and was forced to admit, "Well... No."

"I have. He made his wishes very clear. Steve." She sighed and raised a hand to massage over her right eye. "Howard was killed instantly in that car accident, but his mother lingered for more than a week, kept alive by machines. He told me that was no way to live, no way he wanted to live--"

"He's Iron Man. His life is already extended by the arc reactor--"

"I know," she repeated. "I _realize_ this is not black and white, but Steve... he can't go on like this. I've been speaking with some of the doctors, and other professionals. They recommended several rehabilitation facilities -- top institutes that specialize in brain injuries."

"He doesn't have a brain injury. It's a magical curse."

"Stephen Strange, Thor, and every other consultant agrees it's not magic."

"I was there, I saw it happen," Steve said. "And if he's thrown away into a... a sanitarium, we can't get to the bottom of this."

"Steve, maybe you should start thinking about if there isn't a bottom to this," she said shortly. "Right now he's an Avenger who can't protect himself. What if the tower is attacked?"

"Then JARVIS calls a suit and flies him to safety. He'll still be more protected here than anywhere else."

To his surprise, Pepper reached out and clasped his hand. Her own fingers were cold. "I've been going through this in my head over and over. I... I'm willing to ignore certain provisions of the living will, for now, but if this continues on, we're going to have to think of something else. You're the leader of the team, but right now he's not an Avenger. Steve... he's barely alive."

"As long as he's breathing, he's still an Avenger," he said.

She shook her head, wiping a tear away with a finger, and rose. "This is a copy of his living will. You can read through it, if you like. Right now, we can't ask Tony what he wants -- but he already told us, while he was able."

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, buuuuuuut I feel like the narrative is in danger of being overworked if I keep picking at it. (On that note, I totally welcome and encourage constructive criticism. Even if it's anon. I'm only looking to improve my skillz.) 
> 
> Just as a warning: This is the grimmest chapter in the fic. Things will look up from here, but this is where the 'possible suicidal actions' warning comes into play.

 

* * *

 

Steve convinced himself he'd give it a few days before he brought the subject of the living will to the rest of the team. Surely in the meantime someone would discover a promising lead, or maybe Amora would show up, or Tony would blink fully back awake and alert, having found a way to fight past the blocks in his mind.

Maybe Steve lived too long in the new world, where everything was NOW, NOW, NOW, and he'd come to expect instant results. Or maybe he was blinded by hope. Bucky had told him more than once he was too much of an optimist.

Either way, a few days after Pepper's visit, two things happened within a few hours of each other: Thor came back with word that Odin would not allow the Asgardian palace healers to see Tony. The request had been a long shot; Odin had become much more recluse and isolationist since the death of his wife, but it was still a bitter pill to swallow, seeing that Amora had been the cause.

The second thing was that the public found out about Tony's condition.

Steve had been walking down the hall towards his room, worn out from keeping watch over Tony (he'd had several fits that night and Steve hadn't gotten any sleep) when the elevator opened behind him.

Natasha stood on the other side.  Her face was mask-like in a way that never meant good things for anyone.

"What happened?" Steve asked, turning track to join her.

She shook her head once and reached past him to press the elevator button for Bruce's labs. Then, wordlessly, she whipped out her StarkPhone and pressed play.

The video was a little shaky, obviously taken from a hand-held camera or cell phone.  It was of Tony, who was dressed in a simple hospital gown, his bare legs poking out the bottom. He stood perfectly still and vacant as several men in different lab coats moved one of his arms to hold out straight, testing his reflexes. "No response," someone said out of view.

The doctors were talking idly about the possibility of a stroke, and several more tests they'd like to run. One mentioned having good results with electroconvulsive therapy in other catatonic patients, another replied that Tony's medical proxy would never allow it. The camera zoomed in on Tony's face, his empty expression. Then the video cut out.

The link at the top of the video went to CNN, and Steve felt the backs of his shoulders hit the wall. He had to resist the urge to throw Natasha's phone against the elevator doors. This video was public. "How," he practically spat.

"Theory is an intern either leaked the video, or it was hacked out of a doctor's personal database."

"It should have never been filmed in the first place." Steve paged back on the screen to the website's homepage. Sure enough, the video was CNN's top story.

"I agree." The elevator slid to a halt, and Natasha grabbed Steve's arm. "But we have a bigger problem. Those neurologists were hired by Bruce -- he's shut himself in his safe room."

His safe room. The one truly Hulk-proof place in the tower. If Bruce had locked himself in there, it meant he was on the verge of losing control.

The elevator dinged open onto Bruce's floor, and Steve saw at once that the steel reinforced doors of the safe room were firmly shut.

"JARVIS--" he started.

"I'm sorry, Captain," JARVIS almost sounded like it, too. "Doctor Banner has engaged the emergency protocols. I cannot open the door."

Steve let out a long breath and glanced at Natasha, who looked equally grim.

"Then we'll be here for him when he comes out," he said.

It was a long, long wait. Steve considered going to fetch his shield, but if Bruce did lose control, even that would be little help. Pepper called once, through JARVIS, with a request for Steve to meet her at SI headquarters. With Tony's condition thrust into the public, she needed his presence as Avengers team leader as she released a statement.

Steve relayed his apologies, but he couldn't leave the tower right then. Funny. He'd always disliked it when Tony left Pepper to twist in the wind when something major at SI came up, but there was nothing for it. Bruce needed Steve more.

Finally, some hours later, the safety locks to the room finally disengaged with an audible hiss. The doors opened. Bruce more or less stumbled out, looking haggard and drawn as if he'd gone several grueling rounds with a tough opponent. In a way, he had. He'd fought his rage and won.

Wordlessly, Natasha came over, kissed his cheek, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Bruce sagged against her briefly, as if his strings were cut. But when he straightened again and faced Steve, the look in his eyes were terrible. Foreboding. As if readying himself to be struck down.

"I'm sorry," Bruce croaked. "I hired those doctors to consult, and they'd come highly recommended, but..." he shook his head. "This is... this is my fault."

"No," Steve said firmly. "You're only doing your best for Tony, Bruce. You put your trust in the wrong person, but you can't hold yourself responsible for the acts of evil people."

Natasha turned to him, an eyebrow raised. "If I said the same to you, would you believe me?"

Steve took in a sharp breath. "That's not the same."

"Hmm." She turned back to Bruce, who was wincing, reaching up to rub under his right eye as if he was getting a headache. "Come upstairs. I will make both of you tea, and we need to plan as a team what to do next."

Bruce muttered under his breath something that sounded suspiciously like "smash".

Privately, Steve agreed, though he had a feeling there wouldn't be much left of whoever leaked the video after Pepper's lawyers got done with them. 

It didn't matter. The damage had been done.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Sir," JARVIS' voice came from the speakers, echoing off the gym walls as Steve's fist hit the punching bag with a solid THWAP. He'd been at it for hours -- sometimes it even made him feel better.

It wasn't like he could go outside anymore, not unless he wanted to break through the throng of reporters camping out by every tower exit in the week since the news broke.

Steve paused, tossing his head back to flick a bit of sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. "Yes?"

"Your assistance is needed on the rooftop landing pad, immediately." Mr. Stark has gone outside." A pause. "Hurry."

Fear gripped him. Tony was on the landing pad? Alone?  "On my way," he said, and he knew it was a bad sign when the gym door swooshed open for him, allowing him to build up to a sprint.

He thought about hitting the stairs instead of the elevator, but the elevator doors were already open and waiting for his arrival. Trusting JARVIS to put on the speed, he got in. The pull of gravity made it clear the elevator was going at full speed, and only a few seconds later he was stepping out.

He glanced across the room, through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and his heart stuttered to a stop.

Tony stood, completely unaccompanied, on the very point of the out-thrust landing pad. The toes of his bare feet hung off the edge.

Later, Steve wouldn't remember rushing up to him, only wrapping his arms around Tony and yanking him around and back. Tony didn't resist at all.

"Tony! Tony... God, what? What do you think you were doing?" he breathed, hauling him back and pressing him against the wall of the building, at least twenty feet from the edge.

There was no sign of blood or trauma. Steve smoothed his hands down Tony's shoulders, touched his wrists, needing to reassure himself, that he was okay. That he was in one piece. The enormity of what had almost happened was almost too big to grasp. If Tony had taken another step-- another half-step...

Horror rolled over him like a wave. He clutched Tony's shoulders harder, staring into his face, his empty eyes. "What were you thinking? God, Tony..."

Tony stared impassively out to the middle distance.

"You could have... oh gosh. Oh no..." He couldn't stop running his hands up and down Tony's arms. "Don't give up on me. We're trying to find something-- don't... just please don't..." No reaction. Maybe... "Are you in pain?" Stupid question. Of _course_ he was in pain. The screaming fits just weren't for show.

"You can't give up." Steve told him, hands back on Tony's shoulders. "Please, don't... just don't give up on me, pal. Please. I'm trying--I swear to God I'm trying to bring you back."

His words felt just as empty as Tony's eyes.

Steve didn't know what to do. Despair was like a wild thing in his chest. He wanted to shake Tony until he snapped out of this. If he had enough presence of mind to get himself outside and stand on the ledge, it meant there _was_ a sliver of life inside him, still. Something that was giving up.

Looking at Tony's slack face, his lifeless eyes, something insane gripped Steve. He flashed to Sleeping Beauty. Love's first kiss. This _was_ a magical curse. Maybe... maybe....?

Cupping his face, Steve leaned down and kissed him. _I love you_ , he thought desperately, trying to pour the feeling into it. _I love you, and it's okay if you hate me for it. Just come back._

Tony's lips were slack and cold. Unresponsive. Steve drew back, searching for a look of outrage. Or maybe just a flicker of recognition.

There was nothing. Nothing at all.

Shame washed through him, and he took a half-step back. What was he doing? "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He leaned down, forehead resting on Tony's shoulder. And if he let out a strangled sob, well, no one was around to notice. Least of all, Tony.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post but this is the chapter where we finally get some answers, so hopefully it's worth the wait. HUGE thanks to Jem for the beta and offering some awesome suggestions going forward. :)

 

 

Later, the vid feeds showed that it had been another fit that had driven Tony outside. The nurse who had been watching him had gone on her hour lunch break -- leaving him alone. This was standard, as Tony didn't move at all until someone directed him.

But Tony's fit had come on so suddenly, JARVIS hadn't had time to issue a warning. His flailing hand had slapped a bioscan panel near the door. It had opened -- JARVIS had no overrides-- something which was quickly fixed by Pepper.

Tony had run outside and stopped, an inch from death.

With his eidetic memory, Steve only needed to watch the video once. He felt so sick he had to leave the room.

Two nurses were now going to be hired for full time supervision. Tony wasn't going to be left alone again. He shouldn't have been in the first place. Steve was supposed to be a tactician, but he'd never helped arrange care for another person before.

Worse, later that day there was a call to assemble. Steve would have given anything to finally knock some answers out of Amora, but it was only rogue AIM bots causing minor subway damage. Bruce had stayed behind to oversee more of Tony's medical tests in case his change of behavior meant something that could finally be detected.

But even as Steve cut AIM bots down left and right with his shield, all he could see was Tony standing with his toes hanging off the ledge.

Bucky, of course, noticed his distraction, swore at him, and told him to go home. "We got this, Steve. Get your tail outta here."

"No, but--"

"Listen." Bucky pulled him to the side and spoke low, "Your head's not in the game right now. We can see it, and it ain't gonna do Tony favors if you get hurt because you're being stupid over him. Clint, Nat, and I got this." He quirked a smile. "And take Thor with you -- he's doing more harm than good with that hammer down here."

Back in the war, Bucky had been his second in command for good reason. Steve had trusted him to make solid field decisions then -- to pull men he thought too sick or injured to keep fighting. It had never happened to Steve, but there was a first time for everything.

And frankly, Bucky was right.

Bruce met Steve as he walked into the tower's common room, fresh from a shower. Thor was there, the hammer set gently on the coffee table before him.

"We did a complete medical work-up," Bruce said, and the look on his face told Steve exactly what his answer would be before he said it. "There were no changes from any of Tony's baseline readings across the board."

Steve ran his hand back through his damp hair, ignoring the urge to grip it and maybe yank a tuft out. "You watched the surveillance video."

The corners of his Bruce's mouth drooped down. "Steve, he flailed and his hand hit the panel to open the outer door. There wasn't much of a change, other than--"

"Tony ran _outside_ to the Iron Man launch pad. He tried--" Steve hesitated, but he had to own up to it if no one else would. That was the type of man he was. "He tried to end his suffering."

"Steve, listen. Autistic children, people with dementia run--"

"He does not have dementia--"

"Tony is essentially in a mild vegetative state. I know you want to see this as a sign. And it may be -- or an aberration." Bruce sighed, removing his glasses. The gray threads in his hair shown vivid under the florescent lights.  "I've spoken to Pepper, and we both agree he should be placed in a facility with twenty-four hour care."

Steve turned away.

Until that moment, Thor had been silent. He rose from his seat and stepped forward. "I do not understand your reticence, Captain. Would he not be well taken care of in such a place?"

"Yes," Bruce said, answering for him. "He'll have the best money can buy. It's not like it was in the forties, Steve. This is an adult care facility -- clean and compassionate."

"He'd hate it," Steve said. "He wouldn't want to be there."

"Tony's already made his wishes clear in writing -- and right now we're already ignoring them," Bruce said quietly. Steve' heart sank: Bruce had seen the living will, too. "I'm willing to do it because, like Pepper, I believe there's hope for... for some sort of recovery."

"It would hurt any warrior to be brought so low," Thor murmured.

"Steve," Bruce said, "this was a warning sign. We're all doing our best, but we aren't equipped to take care of him long-term like he needs. Being here just isn't safe for Tony."

He was right, God help him.

Steve took a deep breath. It was on the tip of his tongue to not exactly say yes, but to agree -- tentatively -- to a trial run. He would be sure to tour any facility first. Stay with Tony the first few days, make sure he was settling in, tell him over and over again even if it seemed like Tony wasn't listening, that this wasn't a permanent home. That he wasn't being forgotten about. He could picture it now -- he would visit as often as he could, and drag the others along too. Until they found a cure.

Until.... until...

"Excuse me, Dr. Banner," JARVIS cut in, and Steve stiffened, hoping Tony wasn't going through another fit. "There is a Doctor Malone at the front desk along with one additional guest,  requesting to see Mr. Stark."

Bruce rubbed a hand down his face, looking, if anything, more exhausted. "Let me guess: they have a cure?"

"As you say, " JARVIS said.

"Put them on the list with the rest."

"Wait." Steve looked at him sharply. "The rest?"

A muscle over Bruce's eye twitched. "The rest. Every whack job and homeopath in two hundred miles has come out of the woodwork since that video came out."

Steve couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And you've been holding them back?"

Bruce turned to him, the flush of his cheeks taking on a green tinge. "The last person does his own self-dentistry. He claimed the mercury Tony has in his fillings caused his 'memory loss'. The one before that was actually a reporter with fake credentials. So yes, Captain, I'm being stringent with who gets access to Tony. Can you blame me? Although--" he hesitated. "JARVIS, is that Doctor Mary Malone?"

"Indeed, sir."

Bruce frowned. "I once attended a conference where she was a speaker. She's a physicist -- had some interesting theories on dark matter particles. Who is her guest?"

"A Doctor William Parry, from his driver's license. Records indicate he is a family physician in practice near Oxford England."

"Long way to travel to sell snake oil," Steve said pointedly.

Bruce threw his hands in the air. "Let them up, you'll see what I mean."

 

* * *

 

 

Mary Malone was a short, athletic woman, her cropped hair gone gray. The man standing next to her was around Steve's perceived age, with dark hair and a serious expression.

The house cat that stood by the man's feet was... unexpected. Large for a cat, it had dark, smoky under-shadings to its fur. It was quite beautiful in a subtle sort of way.

 "Doctor Malone." Bruce strode forward, his expression slightly pinched as he took in the cat. "I saw your presentation on elementary particles and dark matter at the conference in Madrid."

 Dr. Malone's polite smile became something more genuine, and she and Bruce briefly spoke in what Steve liked to think of as polite scientist way of greeting each other; all small talk and compliments on each other's work and research papers.

 "Thank you, Doctor Banner. I've followed your work with interest," she said in a crisp English accent, after a moment of chit-chat. "May I introduce to you my long-time friend, Doctor William Parry?" They shook hands and Bruce turned to make his own introductions to Steve and Thor, who had tagged along.

 "We're here regarding Mr. Stark's situation," Parry said, "I admit I was alarmed when I watched the video -- I've seen something very similar before."

 "Then you'd be the first," Steve said, trying and failing to quash down a surge of hope. Surely, these people wouldn't have come all the way from England unless they knew something vital?

"The reports say this happened to him while on a mission," Parry said. "You were there? Did you see... something in the air around him? Shimmers? Whisps?"

 Steve shook his head. "No."

Parry seemed surprised. "And his behavior since--"

"He is alive, but the life is gone from him," Thor said. "He sees without seeing."

At this, Parry gave a grim nod. "I'd like to examine him, if I may. If I'm right -- and I fear I am -- I'm not sure what can be done, but it will be very quick."

"And, um, the cat?" Bruce asked pointedly.

"That is no true animal," Thor said, surprising them all. "I've seen its like before, though never on Midgard."

"I've traveled," Parry said, blandly. The cat twined its tail around his leg.

"I'm sorry," Bruce said, "But we don't allow animals in the tower."

Dr. Parry didn't seem the least bit concerned. "Kirjava is quite well behaved."

"That may be so, but there's a question of cleanliness."

"I know it's rather odd, but she can help with the, er, diagnosis."

Bruce gave Steve an 'I told you so' look. Steve, with a sinking feeling, didn't disagree.

Before he could say anything, Thor bent close to Steve and spoke in an undertone, "That is no true animal -- it cannot touch or harm Anthony, or anyone else."

Bruce looked at Steve, clearly putting the decision in his hands.

Steve hesitated, glanced at Thor, then back at the cat. Not a true animal? Was it alien, then, or magical? But... if it couldn't hurt Tony, what was the harm? None of the other doctors had so far even suggested a solid theory on what was wrong. If Parry could, or at least put them on the right path...

Steve straightened his shoulders, steeling himself. "We'd be grateful if you could shed some light. So far, our medical team hasn't come up with much."

"No," Perry said quietly, "they wouldn't, would they?"

 

* * *

 

 

Tony was in his room, laying on top of the covers of his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The nurse on shift sat nearby with an eReader in her lap. Steve excused her from the room and went to Tony's side. "You have visitors," he said to him, quietly. 

Dr. Malone took one look at Tony and put a hand to her mouth, her eyes filling.

 _She knows something_ , Steve thought.

Dr. Parry was much more composed. He crossed to the other side of the bed. "Hello, Mr. Stark," he spoke to Tony as if he could understand him, which few of the specialists bothered to do. "I'm going to examine you. It won't hurt."

He touched Tony's wrist to count his pulse -- Parry's little and ring fingers were missing on his left hand -- then he gently moved Tony to sit up. Parry asked Bruce a couple questions about Tony's reflexes. Then he stared into Tony's blank eyes for a long moment before he looked away and shook his head at Doctor Malone, his lips pinched.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking from Bruce to Thor. His dark gaze settled on Steve. "Something vital has been taken from your friend."

"You can tell that from, um, looking at him?" Bruce asked.

"I've seen it before."

Bruce looked like he was chewing nails. "Perhaps, if you could be more specific."

Again, Parry exchanged glances with Malone. She nodded and spoke, "Doctor Banner, you know my research focuses on elementary particles within dark matter. What I never told -- well, I could never publish _all_ my findings. It is a bit... unusual. Most aren't ready for it."

Bruce's voice was dry. "You might have heard, I've become an expert in the unusual."

"It is a bit difficult to explain," Parry said, taking up the thread. "And if I'm right-- I'm afraid Mr. Stark here may be only the beginning."

"What do you mean?" Thor asked. "This enchantment will occur again? To others?"

"That is my fear, yes." Again, Parry hesitated as if to collect his thoughts. "To begin with, what you must know is there are generally three parts to a person; the body, the ghost or spirit... and the daemon."

"Demon?" Steve repeated.

"Daemon. Not evil," Parry's smile was sympathetic. "There isn't a proper word in English -- in this universe, really -- to fully explain. Consciousness, or soul comes close, but not quite."

"Steve," Bruce sounded pained, an undertone of _'Why are we wasting time on this?'_ in his voice. Steve wasn't sure he disagreed.

But Thor was nodding. "Yes, what you speak of is also known on Asgard. We call it the _Fylgja_. The companion to the self. The one who leads in your footsteps."

"I assure you, it has legitimate scientific backing," Malone said, "You know I've experimented with elementary particles. I have evidence -- and I'll be happy to share with you -- that they are self-aware to an extent. More, that they are actually _attracted_ to us. Once enough congregate, they help to form the deamon in conscious, living beings."

"What sort of evidence?" Bruce asked, frowning.

Malone started speaking of deep space telemetry, photographs developed with special emultions, and other things above Steve's pay grade. Turning from them, he looked to Tony, who was sitting up in the same position where Doctor Parry had put him. A vacant shell. What had Bucky said the other week? _When HYDRA took me out, they at least stuffed something back in..._

"You said something vital is gone," Steve blurted, "His..." the good Catholic schoolboy inside rebelled, but he said it anyway, "daemon?"

Parry nodded. He looked grim. "I traveled as a young man -- there were holes, doorways to other worlds. They've been since sealed, the way to make them destroyed. But in one of these worlds there was a creature, a spectre, that fed off the daemons of adults, and left them exactly like this. Everything that made them the person they were, gone."

Steve wasn't sure he believed a word, but the look in Parry's eyes made him shiver. "If this is true," he said, "how do we get Tony's back?"

"I'm sorry," Parry said, and looked like he meant it. "That part of him has been destroyed forever."

"I don't believe that," Steve said. He moved to put himself between Tony and the newcomers, shielding him. "You don't know Tony -- nothing can keep him down." Not Afghanistan, palladium poisoning, or even a damned nuke aimed straight for him. Tony didn't know the meaning of quit.

"I'm sorry," Parry said again, and Steve had to glance away from the pity in his eyes.

"Tell me about these spectres," Steve said.

"In that world -- the world of Cittàgazze-- they appeared as... sort of malevolent whisps in the air, but not all universes hold to the same rules. For example, there were worlds where people routinely talk to their own daemons, where they exist outside of themselves. Not inside, like here." Perry tapped his own chest, over his heart.  "It may be that in this world, the spectres can't be seen."

Steve frowned. "How can you fight something you can't see?"

"You can't fight spectres, you can only control them."

"Amora the Enchantress," Thor murmured.

"If someone has enough force of will, the spectres can be aimed en masse at a town or village, like a weapon. I've... seen it before."

 _If they can be controlled, maybe they can be reasoned with_ , Steve thought. Then he realized he was starting to take these two seriously. He glanced at Bruce, who was looking deeply unhappy.

"Let's go back to these other worlds," Bruce said. His voice was very mild in the way it got only when he was putting a tight lid on his emotions. "I get the impression you're not talking about planets, like Asgard. You mean the many-worlds theory, don't you?"

"Quite," Malone said. "Other universes. It was..." she smiled a look of wonder, "quite extraordinary."

Bruce frowned. "And you've been there? How? The amount of energy required to transfer--"

There was a harsh intake of breath from behind them. With a sinking feeling Steve turned to Tony, who was still sitting up, but gone tense. Sure enough, he'd begun to breathe hard, his eyes focused somewhere in the middle distance. Another fit was coming on.

Tony groaned, then reached a claw-like hand towards his arc reactor. Steve caught his wrists with practice, now, sitting behind him and immobilizing his arms as Tony thrashed and screamed at nothing, fighting tooth and nail against something only he could see.

A spectre?

Distantly, Steve sensed the horror and pity of the visitors, but all his attention was on Tony as he repeated the words to him that had almost become a mantra: That Tony was all right, that he was safe now... Come back to us. 

But Steve could also see a hollowness to Tony's cheeks that hadn't been there a few weeks ago, and his wrists felt thin and birdlike, his shoulder-blades sharp where they pressed against Steve's chest. Despite all their efforts, Tony was losing weight, fading in front of Steve's eyes.

Finally, with a gasp like a man drowning, Tony went limp against Steve. Exhausted and gray and blank.

"Tony?" Steve asked. He couldn't help but hope, even now.

There was no answer.

The mattress dipped slightly. Steve glanced up to see the cat had joined them on the bed -- he'd had forgotten all about it.

The cat paid him no mind. It stared at Tony in an intelligent, searching way that wasn't very cat-like at all. Then the cat turned to Parry and said quite clearly, "Did you see it, too?"

"No," Parry said, "But I felt it."

Bruce made a sputtering sound.

"Did I not say it was no true animal?" Thor rumbled, amused.

The cat lifted a paw to pat the air before Tony's chest. "Here," she said, "I saw only briefly. The connection became alive again, thin as spider-silk. I think they are still together in a way, Will. They've been ripped apart, but she's still alive."

"Who is this?" Steve asked.

"Kirjava," Parry said, "my daemon."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so that happened. *hides* Tags will be changing soon to reflect that this is a story with daemons -- it's been hard to keep this under wraps.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late. Hopefully a long-ish chapter will help make up for it?

 

 

"I'm coming with you," Bucky insisted for the third time. "Steve, if you're going to Asgard, you're gonna need back-up."

"Thor's coming, and I'll have Tony." Steve held up his hand before anyone could point out that Tony wasn't in the position to help anyone. "We'll bring along the suitcase armor."

Steve and the rest of the Avengers were sitting in the tower's common room. Doctors Malone and Parry had been shown to temporary guest quarters, while the Avengers, most fresh from their battle, convened in the main living area. It took a few minutes for Steve to bring everyone up to date on what had happened. The reactions had been... mixed.

"I don't like it." Clint sat sideways in a chair, his index finger spinning the point of an arrow. "Thor, I thought you said Odin refused to help, even though Amora is Asgardian."

Thor shook his head. "He decreed Anthony was not to be seen by the palace healers, but there are others, wise men and women who speak to their _Fylgja_. Daemons," he corrected, with a glance. "I know of one, a friend of my mother's, who is a healer of the soul, which may be what Anthony needs. This man lives at the edge of the Outer-Lands, and if we go to Asgard and proceed directly to him, we may not be noticed. It is late in the year, and my father readies himself for the Odin-sleep."

"And if Odin susses you out?" Bucky asked.

Thor hesitated then inclined his head to Bucky. "Depending on his mood, we all may be imprisoned."

Bucky threw both hands in the air, looking at Steve as if his point was made. "Long shot doesn't even begin to cover it. We don't know if this wise-man can help Tony."

"It's a lead," Steve said. "It's the _only_ lead we have to fixing Tony's condition, and I'm willing to follow it."

"I'm still not sure what to think about these supposed daemons, or the... what did you call them? Spectres?" Natasha asked, glancing at Bruce. "How does the science look behind it?"

Bruce hesitated for a long, long moment. He'd been standing off to the side, looking vaguely pained. "It's... all a little unbelievable, to be honest, and this is coming from, well, me." He sighed. "Doctor Malone has been upfront with her research, but she has decades of data on dark matter -- what she calls shadow particles. I can't begin to sift through it in only a couple hours."

"Doctor Parry has offered to come to Asgard with us," Steve said. "We'll have Thor, and Tony will have the suit in case we need to get away in a hurry." He turned to Bucky. "That's three Avengers already, counting Tony. Buck, I need you to stay behind and lead the team, especially if Amora shows up looking for trouble."

"What, with more of her soul-eating monsters?" Bucky's voice was acid, but there was an undercurrent of resignation to it. He knew Steve was right. Earth needed protection, and after all, they'd split up a few times even during the war, though neither one of them liked it. "These doctors of yours have any bright ideas on how to fight 'em? More flashlights?"

Steve winced. "Those weren't spectres. Those were something else, probably set up as a distraction. Apparently, spectres aren't really alive, so they can't be killed."

"Great."

"Malone said the spectres are only dangerous to adults, and children over puberty. She will be working with SHIELD researchers, but it sounds like the best offence is avoidance."

Bucky sighed, crossing one arm over his metal one. "How long do you expect this trip to take?"

"I will requisition my fastest chariot," Thor said. "Two days travel to the Outer-Lands, and back."

"So, five days, give or take," Steve confirmed. He made sure to meet the eyes of every Avenger. "Any one have anything else to add?"

No one spoke for a moment, then Natasha stood. "Bring him back, Steve."

His heart gave a hard pound. "I will."

Bucky met his gaze briefly -- they'd have a few things to hash over together before Steve left, but the general meeting was over. Clint broke off to speak to Thor and Natasha.

"Steve," Bruce said quietly, at Steve's shoulder. He turned, and Bruce gestured him to a more private corner of the room. Stress was lining his eyes even more deeply -- he looked tired, having worked harder than anyone else on the team to find an answer for Tony. "I know you're hoping to find a cure in Asgard." Bruce sighed. "And I admit, Malone's research is compelling. Just... don't pin all your hopes to this."

"This is going to work," Steve said, firmly.

"You can't know that."

"I do." Steve glanced around the room; at Bucky and Natasha, and Clint and Thor, who were gathered, speaking together. His whole team, except Tony. They'd just been told half were leaving the planet, and the other half might be facing unfightable horrors, but there was nothing but determination and purpose in all of their faces. Something stirred in his chest -- pride, love.... heck, maybe it was his daemon.  "Call it faith."

 

 

* * *

 

*****

* * *

 

 

 

The Asgardian sky was nothing like Steve had ever seen before. Hundreds, thousands, millions of stars crusted the black and purple sky, and what he could only assume was the Milky Way galaxy. For a moment, all Steve could do was stare. The road under his feet was a pulsing rainbow hued glass, leading off miles away to a crystalline city. It was... alien. Gorgeous. His fingers itched to grab up pencil and pen.

Instinctively, Steve turned to Tony, a comment on his lips, something like, " _Would you get a load of that_."

Tony's gaze was blank and uninterested. Steve didn't know why it hit him hard all over again: Everything that made Tony up was gone.

_You would have loved to see this_ , Steve thought, swallowing. He turned away.

Doctor Parry looked, well, he was self-possessed enough not to look awestruck, but he seemed impressed.

Kirjava the cat looked at the city, then away and around, her tail flicking in impatience.

Thor moved to the side of the rainbow road, toes to the long drop-off. "I will return shortly with the chariot," he said. He swung his hammer in a quick arc, then flew up and out toward the glittering city.

Parry and Steve exchanged a look, a shrug, then started walking down the rainbow road. No doubt Thor would not take long, but there was no reason they couldn't shorten the distance a little with their own two feet.

They walked -- the road had no guard rail or boundaries or fence between the edge and open space, and even though Tony hadn't shown signs of running off since that one fit, Steve kept a hand firmly on his shoulder. It couldn't hurt.

So he was immediately aware when Tony took a shortened step, then two, and wobbled.

"Are you--" Steve started.

Tony didn't fall so much as slowly collapse in place. Only Steve's quick reaction kept his head from hitting the pulsing road.

It wasn't another fit. He'd fainted dead away.

At once, Parry was knelt at Tony's side, taking his vitals. "I don't like how fast his heart is beating." He pinched Tony's skin on the top of his hand. "Dehydrated, too, like it or not."

Steve's hand hovered, then he gave into the impulse, stroking once through Tony's hair. "This is taking a lot out of him, and he hasn't been eating much," he said. "Bruce had talked about intravenous feeding, but there were limits on the living will, and... Will he be okay?"

"Sometimes catatonia patients can suffer exhaustion," Parry said. "And that trip through the Bifrost was... taxing," He frowned at the long road to Asgard. "I suppose we cannot just wait here."

Steve nodded and, carefully, scooped up Tony under his legs and shoulders. Tony's eyes cracked open, then shut again.

He wasn't all that heavy, though the counterbalance of the man in his arms and the weight of the travel pack was a little awkward, it wasn't too much for Steve to handle.

"Are you alright? Do you need me to take your pack?" Parry asked.

Steve shook his head. Parry was a fit man, but the pack weighed at least two hundred pounds. He was carrying the bulk of the supplies for their trip plus the suitcase armor.

He shifted, Tony's head pillowed on the top of his bicep. "He would hate this," Steve said as he started forward. He felt a lump grow in his throat, and forced himself to swallow past it. "Tony, I mean. Being carried -- being cared for. He's so self-sufficient."

"You love him," Parry said, quite bluntly in Steve's opinion. Steve gave him a sharp look, but Parry was unrepentant. "I can see it in your eyes, whenever you look at him."

If he did, that was something for Tony to hear from Steve, and not between himself and a stranger. Steve felt his grip firm up on Tony, and made himself relax. "Amora did this to him to hurt me," he said instead, "and it worked. It... I haven't been myself, since... I can't stand to see this happening to him."

"It's the most potent weapon, love," Parry said.

Yes. Steve kept his gaze ahead as he made himself ask, "When we get Tony's daemon back, will he be like he was? Will he be... whole?"

"There's no way of knowing. I've only met a dozen or so people from our world who can speak to their daemons, although..." Perry hesitated.

"What?"

"There was a girl, she was -- is -- a dear friend. She told me of people in her world who separated from their daemons through a medical procedure. Intercision." He shook his head. A look of quiet disgust crossed his face. "Once that link is broken, it's impossible to truly put them back together. The adults were able to lead lives afterwards. They were self-aware, just... unimaginative. Unquestioning. The perfect drones, you see."

Almost what HYDRA had tried to do with Bucky. Steve had to work hard not to clutch Tony any more tightly than was necessary.

"But there is still a link between Tony and his daemon," Kirjava said, unexpectedly. "It isn't broken, but strained. There may be a way to heal it, if we get her back in time."

"You called his daemon 'her' before."

"Daemons are usually the opposite gender of the body," Parry said. "Something poetic about ying and yang, I suppose."

Steve tried to imagine this -- an aspect of himself that was female. That didn't make very much sense, though as Parry said a daemon wasn't exactly a soul, but an aspect of someone's consciousness. He sighed. "I... have a hard time picturing that."

The cat stopped in her tracks, her tail up like a standard pole. "They're coming."

A moment later Steve heard the sound of thundering hooves. Dozens of them. Then, around the corner from the city came a small figure, quickly becoming larger. Steve squinted, not sure if he should trust his eyes. Oh, the chariot made sense to him, though it was golden and flaming, and as ostentatious as Thor himself. The heard of goats leading it... not so much.

Thor, holding the reins at the head of the chariot, had a proud smile on his face. His smile slipped when he saw Tony unconscious in Steve's arms. He pulled the goats up to a stop and gestured. "Quickly! Sif and the Warriors Three have agreed to provide a distraction for the palace guards. These are my finest racing goats, but still we haven't much time to avoid notice."

Again, Parry and Steve exchanged a look.

"Well, I suppose when one is in Rome..." Parry muttered to himself, and boarded. Steve couldn't help but agree.

 

 

* * *

 

****

* * *

 

 

Steve would have loved to see the city, but the chariot was deceptively technological as well as led by a team of seemingly tireless goats. Thor pressed a button and a curve of shimmering energy came up to block the view of the inside, giving them all privacy.

Steve set Tony down on one of the pillowed benches, where he lay, sleeping.

The impressions Steve got through the energy curtain was of a clean city and a wealthy, healthy population. Their chariot drew some glances, but not enough to raise suspicion.

Perry was a quiet fellow, not prone to idol chatter, only commenting occasionally on things outside and then, in quieter tones, to his daemon. Steve was much the same way -- he would have given anything for Tony to fill in the blank, quiet spaces.

Soon, they'd passed through the bulk of the city and were trundling along a road to the greater forest.

Tony woke with a screaming fit that came and went more quickly than usual, but left him gray skinned and weak.

He swallowed a sip of water that Parry offered him, and closed his lips against the rest. He was soon asleep again. Kirjava lay beside Tony, an inch away but never quite touching.

They were still in the forest when evening fell. Thor pulled the chariot off the side of the road to give his goats rest. Steve helped with their feeding and care, wary of the goats sharp teeth. They fed on chunks of bloody meat, which Steve suspected wasn't normal -- he remembered goats in cartoons eating cans and such -- and Thor seemed to know each one by name and disposition.

That night, the four men and Kirjava slept in an Asgardian style tent that was more like a pavilion.

Without anyone agreeing to it, Tony sleeping bag was set next to Steve's.

It was quiet in the tent -- so quiet.  Steve stared at the canopy ceiling overhead and imagined what it were be like if Tony were well. Tony wasn't the camping type. Being without computers or an electronic device would drive him up the wall, and as a result he'd annoy everyone around him to distraction.

But Tony was almost deathly silent in his sleeping bag, and at that moment Steve would have given anything in his power to see him up and 'Jonesing' (as Clint would put it) for a computer.

One of Tony's hands lay out of the sleeping bag, limp on the ground. Steve wanted to reach out and stroke the back of it, lace their fingers together. He didn't.

_Tomorrow_ , Steve thought. _We're getting you help. Just hang on until tomorrow, Shellhead..._

 

* * *

 

****

* * *

 

 

The village with the wise man, was small. The houses were not as elaborate as the ones in Asgard, though the streets were neat and well kept.

Thor's chariot created quite the stir, the harnesses on the goats tinkling as they trotted in. Adults stopped and stared. Children pointed. Thor waved grandly to them all.

They came to a small, dome-shaped home at the end of the main lane. It was smaller than all the rest, set low to the ground. A trail of smoke drifted from the top, and there were tufts of grass growing out of the thatch.

"Allow me to speak to the wise man first and explain our need," Thor said, then jumped easily off the chariot.

The front door was a hide of some fantastic animal -- possibly a zebra, only with muddy brown and red stripes. Thor pushed it aside and walked in without knocking.

It was several long minutes before the skin was twitched, and Thor peeked out, gesturing them in.

Tony was asleep, looking pale and haggard, but he opened his eyes when Steve gently shook his shoulder, and walked dully through the door. Parry and Kirjava followed.

The room inside was hot and close, with the spicy scent of cedar prominent. The wise man stood at a corner, small, wizened with a graying scraggily beard and a necklace of animal teeth. He looked like a native medicine man Steve had read about in Roger Kipling and other fantastic tales.

"This is him?" the man asked in a high, reedy voice. "Yes," he said before anyone could speak. "Yes, I understand. Sit him down. No, not there, boy. On the rug."

Steve did as he was told, speaking softly to Tony, who allowed himself to be directed in perfect obedience.

Tony had no sooner sat than something flitted out of the shadows, small and dark: A bat that flew crazily around Tony's head before returning to the old man, landing at his chest and hooking its claws into the bone-toothed necklace. It crawled its way up to the man's shoulder and seemed to whisper something into his ear.

That was only then when Steve realized the bat was a daemon.

"It's not a cat," he said in surprise, glancing down at Kirjava, who had curled up in Parry's lap and watched the proceedings with interest.

This earned a dismissive look from the old man. "Of course not. Do I look like a cat person to you, boy?" But before Steve could respond, the wise man pointed a gnarled finger at Tony. "You are correct, Odinson. Your companion is missing his daemon, and without it he will never be whole again. Furthermore, my Astrid tells me his body weakens. He has days left, perhaps a week."

The words felt like a blow to Steve's heart. He had to stop himself from reaching out to Tony. Touch him. Tell him to hold on, just a little longer...

Thor nodded solemnly. "We've come seeking wisdom to learn how to return the daemon, and mend what has been broken."

The man barked out a short laugh, and the glinting firelight caught his face. His eyes were blank and milky. The man was blind, though he hadn't acted like it. Could it have something to do with his daemon?

"You ask how to mend the break, but not tell me how it was done?" the wise man asked, incredulous.

"We don't exactly know," Steve said. "It might have been a spell."

"No," the wise man shook his head. "No spell could have done this."

"Spectres," Kirjava said quietly.

The old man turned halfway to her. "I know of what you speak -- foul things. And perhaps you are right, but to take without consuming is not in their usual nature. No." He shook his head again. "You give me one broken half to mend without the other, and without even knowing what sundered his spirit. I must know how it was done." Then he turned and pointed alarmingly at Steve. "This one knows."

"What?" Steve said.

"No, no. Not _you_ , boy." He stepped forward and the finger prodded Steve's chest, right above his heart. "She does, and her eyes are keen."

A chill went up Steve's spine. "You're mean my daemon, don't you?"

"But sir," Parry said, "he can't talk to his daemon."

"Is there perhaps another way?" Thor asked.

The wise man turned to him. "Were you there, Odinson?"

"No."

"Then who else was witness?" He shook his head, again, not awaiting their answer. "You ask my wisdom, and I have given it."

"Okay," Steve said. He took in a breath, squared his shoulders. "Then how do I do it?"

"Steve," Parry said, quietly urgent. "It's possible. Mary Malone learned to speak to her daemon, but she has to take care to hide him from sight, and that took her years. Even then, they can't be more than a few dozen feet apart. Ever."

Steve looked Kirjava. He hadn't remembered seeing Perry and his daemon in separate rooms, but then again there hadn't been the need. "Really?"

"Will and I are different," the cat said, which was no explanation at all.

"You are a warrior," Thor said in warning. "If someone were knowledgeable enough, all they would need to do is to strike at your daemon."

And then he'd be like Tony, or worse. He looked at Parry. "But you said Malone can hide her daemon. I didn't see it in the tower."

"Yes," he said, "it's possible, but a witch named, Serafina Pekkala taught her to hide him from sight. She may be able to teach you, but I don't know how long it will take, only that it won't be easy. Until then, you would be vulnerable."

Steve let out a long breath, then he looked at Tony. He looked at Kirjava, too, who sat so trusting in Parry's lap. But mostly he looked at Tony, the hollowness in his cheeks, the blank, empty gaze.

If Tony were truly here, he would not Steve to put himself in danger, would have gone in all barbed wit and sarcasm, and in that moment Steve wanted him back so much it was like a physical ache.

And it didn't matter if Tony hated him, if the thing between them that had just barely started never took off. It didn't matter as long as Tony was back and whole and healthy.

Steve looked at the wise man. "What do I need to do?"

The wise man nodded once. "Come." He took Steve's wrist in his bony fingers and guided him to the fire. Steve had a moment of concern that the old blind man would accidently step into the fire, but the bat daemon fluttered over their heads, making crazy circles around the flames, and the man stayed clear.

The wise man pushed Steve to sit and went off to the other side of the hut, muttering to himself and pulling herbs out of jars and baskets.

Steve briefly met Parry's eyes. The concern he read there made him feel a flush of nerves.  He steeled himself. "Is this how you did it?" Parry looked askance at him, and Steve elaborated, "How you found your daemon?"

"Not hardly." Parry's hand came down to rest in the thick multi-hued fur along Kirjava's back. "I went where she couldn't follow."

"You left me behind," the daemon corrected, with more than a hint of annoyance, "back on the shore. I hadn't known I existed until then, you see."

Steve didn't. At least, not completely. "Then..." he said, looking over to the blank and quiet Tony. "Without your daemon, you were like him?"

"No. It's different when you separate yourself voluntarily. And I was a child, not even thirteen yet. Children are more resilient in many ways."

Steve wondered if this was going to hurt, but dismissed it a moment later. He was strong, he could take it. He'd been in and out of the vita-ray machine, after all.

A moment later, the wise man returned with his handfuls of herbs. These, he cast into the fire. The flames flared, then turned to a purple hue.

The old man folded his legs and sat across the fire from Steve. His daemon came to rest on his shoulder.

"Breathe in the smoke," he said, and as he did the air in the room seemed to shift, rolling the smoke over Steve's head. It was scented with sage and pine. Steve frowned.

"I can't be drugged," he said, half in apology. "My metabolism's too high. Not much works on me."

"The only one who can bring her out is you," the wise man replied, and the smoke didn't dissipate.

Still frowning, Steve did what he was told and breathed in, deeply, and out. The smoke tickled at his nose, but seemed to do nothing other than that.

"Now," the wise man said, "Describe to me again what happened to your friend."

"Well, we'd received a call to assemble," Steve started, but was cut off.

"No, don't tell me from here!" The man tapped his head, then moved his hand down to press over his own heart. "Tell me from here."

Steve looked around at Parry and Thor, but maybe the smoke was doing a number on him because for the life of him he couldn't read their expressions. "I... Amora asked me to choose," he said, skipping ahead.

"Choose?"

"Who I loved." He kept his eyes firmly to the purple flames.

"And then?"

"I refused to answer."

The wise man nodded, encouraging, and Steve went on, "I remember that Bucky was standing beside me, and I... he's always been my best pal, ever since we were little. Our whole lives. But he was hurt for a long time," seventy years, "and he's been doing better, recently." He took in another deep breath, and with it he felt... odd. A little off kilter, as if the world had tilted a few degrees off its access.

"And your other friend? Your... Tony?" The old wise man's voice came softer, or was he just further away?

Steve's lips pulled into a smile. "Tony was being a wiseass to Amora. That's what he does when he --- he's got so many walls." Distantly, Steve felt his hand clench and release. "He keeps everything at arms length. He's so smart, and most of the time when he talks to you it's like he's got the conversation planned out three steps ahead." He took another breath, adding, "I knew his father, you know? We were friends, in the war. I think it was Howard who made him put all those walls up, and sometimes I wish... I wish _we_ could just go back in time and sock him in the jaw." Steve paused at that second, distantly aware he'd said something odd in that phrasing, but not able to pinpoint what it was. He shook his head, eyes half shut, staring into the fire. "But Tony, when he's really talking to you, when he's not giving you the For The Press smile, when he's not thinking three or four steps ahead of the conversation you're still having with him, he's the most generous, kind, infuriating man..."

Thor rumbled something that Steve couldn't quite make out, and he thought that should have bothered him, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

But when the wise man spoke, he heard his voice loud and clear.

"Now, tell me what happened. Tell me what you saw."

"Amora asked me to choose who I loved," Steve repeated.

"She looked in our head," added a light, feminine voice.

"I never said Tony's name aloud. I--I wouldn't... do that," Steve said. "But Amora pointed at Tony, and--" He meant to say nothing happened, but something _had_ happened, hadn't it?

"The whisps appeared," said the female voice again, "they were like pure menace, taken form."

"Yes," Steve agreed, remembering now. Why hadn't he, before?

She spoke again. "Tony... he tried to get away, but they were over and above, all around him. They closed in." And suddenly Steve could see it in his mind's eye: Malevolent shimmers in the air -- at least a dozen of them coming to Amora's call and drifting around Tony. An air of hunger. Steve took in a sharp breath full of smoke.

"He tried to power through them," he said, and he could see, now, how Tony had run almost straight into one of the things, a spectre, and stopped, clutching his chest. Steve could see it so clear, he wanted to warn him.

"They surrounded him," she said. "And when Amora wanted, one reached in and grabbed..."

"Tony screamed," Steve said.

"They yanked her out, tore her away from him." Strong claws dug into Steve's shoulder. "She was fighting, and fighting, and trying to get back to Tony." And Steve could see it, too, a form he couldn't quite make out, caged in by spectres. "We should have done something."

"Yes," Steve said. "We should have." Then he reached his hand up to the part of him that loved and grieved for Tony, with every thump of their heart. His fingers encountered a strong, feathery back. Sable brown feathers and a proud white head.

And, like she'd done it all his life, his daemon reached over with a wickedly curved beak to gently nudge away a long bit of his hair that had fallen across his eyes.

Steve could have laughed, if he didn't feel so much like crying. For finding a part of himself he never knew was missing. For never being alone again. For knowing what Tony had lost.

"We used to watch the bald eagles nest over the Brooklyn Bridge, remember?" his daemon said. "Remember that time Bucky was playing rough, and we fell off the pier? I became a striper fish until Buck jumped in after to get us, but I always liked flying better. Even when we couldn't breathe right, we could fly."

Steve throat was thick. "I remember." 

"We're getting Tony's daemon back," she vowed. Her eyes were the same blue shade as his own, "together."

 


End file.
